We're Almost There, Even When We're Not: Lessons in Perseverance from a Hike

This past weekend my family and I went on a hike. My father-in-law was visiting, and we needed a way to work off our post-Thanksgiving sluggishness. I found a trail that, in all of my years living in Arizona, I had never heard of. It is called the Hieroglyphic Trail in Gold Canyon, Arizona, and the trail ends with many petroglyphs (and I learned something. Hieroglyphs are paintings or drawings on rocks, while petroglyphs are carvings into rocks. But I still don't know why a trail with petroglyphs is named after hieroglyphs). While I did not read anything about the distance of the trail, several hikers had written about this being an easy hike for kids. So we decided to fill up some water bottles, pack up the family truckster, and head to Gold Canyon to see some petroglyphs.

It was a beautiful winter day in Arizona. While most of the country was dealing with snow, we had an overcast 74 degree day with some wind - perfect for hiking. We started off, and the kids ran ahead, excited to see ancient Native American carvings. Since we had three adults and three kids, we divided and conquered, and I powered ahead with my eight-year-old, blazing the trail for the rest of the family.

Just keep hiking, just keep hiking...

After 45 minutes, the kids were done. We had gone about a mile, mostly uphill. They hadn't eaten in more than 50 minutes, and in my house that is when the kids begin to think about eating grass, leaves, dirt, or anything else they can get their hands on. I started giving shoulder rides, turning into daddy mule, trying to keep spirits up. I asked somebody walking back towards us how close we were, and she said that we were about halfway there.

Yikes!

Cool petroglyphs at the end

Halfway there, running low on snacks, kids wearing out. So when they asked me if we were almost there, I said what every dad in the history of fatherhood has said at some point in his life. "Yes, we are almost there. Let's keep going." We bribed with gum ("If you're positive for 10 minutes you each get a piece of gum."). We joked. We told stories. And the second mile, also uphill, felt like it went so much quicker.

When we got to the end of the two mile hike, the petroglyphs were amazing. There was fascinating detail, which I almost missed due to the constant near heart attacks from kids almost falling down the rocks. We sat and finished off our food while I wondered if my kids were going to resort to cannibalism during the two mile hike back. And we talked about how much easier heading back would be because it was mostly downhill.

During the hike back, I thought about what we would have missed if we had turned back when we were told that we were only halfway there. How would my kids have reacted if I had told them we weren't even close? We still would have had a good hike, but we would have missed out on some really cool history, as well as all of the great family time that we had.

A nap at the end...

We pushed through on the hike, and we got to see some really cool things. We continually tell our kids that they can do hard things. And the fact that my eight-, six-, and four-year-old all hiked four miles was definitely a really hard thing. I hope that my kids will apply this perseverance to life whenever difficulties present themselves.

So if you're ever in the Phoenix are and you're looking for a great hike, check out the Hieroglyphic Trail. Make sure to pack up plenty of snacks, plenty of water, and brush up on your cadence songs and knock knock jokes, because you'll need all of this on the hike.

...And a nap on the way back.

And remember, in the grand scheme of things, "we're almost there" can always be used, because any distance can be considered short, depending on what it's compared to.

Arizona Railway Museum: Cheap Fun for the Whole Family

As a parent, I sometimes feel like I have stale ideas. I usually have the same ideas: take the kids to the zoo, take them out for ice cream, or go on a long bike ride with them. I find it difficult to stretch out and find new things to do.

And then a couple of weeks ago I was driving home from work and I noticed quite a few train cars off of the beaten path. I investigated and discovered the Arizona Railway Museum. I knew that I had to take the kids and check it out.

Manure and Memories: 8 Easy Steps for a Great Winter Lawn

I really like family traditions. Getting out great grandma's roasting pan at Thanksgiving. Pulling out the LGB train at Christmas. Cuddling up to watch a great Christmas movie with the family while a fire is roaring in the fireplace. Yes, I love family traditions.

And nothing says "I'm ready for winter" like getting the kids outside to spread poop in the yard. This is the time of year that I get the winter lawn ready (something that we do in Arizona and that seems really bizarre to my friends in the frigid Midwest). Every year, I almost skip doing it. I almost skipped doing it this year. I wasn't sure if I wanted to spend the money. I wasn't sure if I wanted to mow the lawn throughout the winter. I felt mildly guilty about the water use to keep the lawn going. So many things that pointed me to skipping the lawn for the season.

Stop!: How My Thumb Injury Continually Saves Me

This is a picture of my thumb. Actually, it's a little more than half of my thumb. The rest of my thumb is long since gone.

In 2007, I retiled my entire house, and then replaced all of the baseboards and door moldings with solid wood trim. I was about 90% done with the job and was exhausted. These two things never go well together. I was attempting to fashion two pieces of trim together using my biscuit joiner, and instead of using a clamp, I held one of the pieces on the ground with my hand. As the high speed blade contacted the wood, it knocked the wood out of my hand and pulled my thumb into the blade. Ouch!

After a several-hour surgery, including a skin graft and a pin to help repair the shaved down, split bone, I was on a several month trip to PT and rehab. The result is a thumb that leaves my kids staring, asking questions, and saying, "Poor daddy."

And I wouldn't trade this thumb for a whole one.

Every time I use my table saw, my miter saw, or any other saw or power tool, I hold the material with my left hand. My mangled thumb stares at me as if to say, "Are you being safe with what you're about to do? Shouldn't you be using a push stick, or a clamp, or something else to keep your hand out of the way?" Some of the time, I continue on with what I'm doing because I am being safe, utilizing clamps and safe clearances. But some of the time I realize that I'm pushing the boundaries of safety and need to step up my safety again. Thank you, thumb, for the reminder.

Recently, my thumb helped me realize another dumb thing that I have been doing. I was driving home from work and was at a red light. I pulled out my phone to check my email, and when the light turned green I started driving, keeping my phone out. And there, holding the steering wheel, was my mangled thumb, my Jiminy Cricket, saying, "Is this really the best choice that you could make right now, or are you doing something that would be another momentary lapse of judgement with lifelong consequences?" Well played, mangled thumb. Well played.

So of my fingers, my half thumb still reminds me to be safe. It is there staring me in the face when I am about to do something stupid, and hopefully it will continue to keep me from cutting off anything else.

So please, use the clamps, put your phone down, be safe, and keep your digits!

One Foolproof Recipe for No-Cry Brussels Sprouts

Brussels sprouts are one of those vegetables that people either love or hate. Some people see them as delicious, sweet leafy greens chock full of vitamins. Others see them as earwax flavored mini cabbages that are best for compost. Whether you're a lover or a hater, you probably have a vegetable like this in your family.

I am a lover, and my wife was a hater. When we first got married, I suggested that we have Brussels sprouts for dinner. My wife gave me a face that showed me that I may have crossed a line that a newlywed should not cross. I pressed on, and told her that maybe she didn't have them prepared the right way. She gave me my one chance. I steamed some Brussels sprouts, added a lot of butter and salt, and held my breath. She took one bite, and I knew that I had won her over.